A Cuppa DNF

DNF: Did Not Finish

Processing a DNF is like a scalding cup of tea.

At first, it hurts to hold. The steam is too hot, the bag isn't yet steeped, and the longing is sky high -- why can't you cool just-enough already, you grumble.

Then, one little day around half past 4, the tea happens to be the just-right temperature. You're able to hold the DNF directly in your palms and sip it and feel the things needed to feel: a gulp of relief then a swallow of heartbreak; an anxious re-living that leads to an annoyance at self which then merges into a compassion for the tough learnings.

Ahhh. Feel, It. All.

And then, set it down. Forget where you placed it. Let life tug you in the many directions it can manage to go.

I somehow set my cuppa DNF down over the last few weeks and distracted myself with other things: a 5x1mi relay race through St. Paul dressed in Mob Wife aesthetic and bright red lipstick; running 10 miles with a friend as he took on a 5 mile trail loop at Theo Wirth Park over and over again for 12 hours (he ran 48 miles); purchasing a high suction vacuum on Amazon and cleaning every inch of my house like it's never been cleaned before.

And then, when I picked up the DNF cuppa tea again, when I thought to go through it one more time, it was just ... COLD.

The water remaining was over-saturated with my stories and mind games, my retellings of the event and the turning over and over again the things I could have done differently. I didn't have a use for it anymore. I had moved on.

The mug deserved to be rinsed, placed in the sink, and let go.

Because around the corner will be another running event. Another celebration.

And underneath me are capable legs. Inside of me is a steady, eager heartbeat and an unrelenting mind.

There are friends, new and old, in need of someone to pace them through their miles.

There are other races to sign up for and more people to meet and more interesting occurrences to happen. One disappointing event is not the end of it. It gives us flavor and perspective for the next one, if we are bold enough and brave enough to carry the learnings forward.

The trails are always there. The kettle, well, is always ready to go.

I like the pull of "what's next" as I rise from the rubble of a race-gone-not-exactly-right. But, I don't like to get there too soon. I need to process a bit. Let my mind relax. Let my body heal. Let my experience integrate into my nervous system and be useful for the next set of big miles.

I like sipping my experience. Because then I know when to dump the rest out, rinse the cup, and be done with it all.

Thanks for the tea, Ultrarunning.